He Prefers White Lilies over Roses
by Kuronohime
Summary: Astor is now 22 and comes back from law school for an internship at Miami. She has arranged temporary accommodation at Dexter's house. But childhood suspicions still hold tight on to Astor. There's just something... off with Dexter. /Canonish
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N**: I'm a very irregular viewer of Dexter, but every once in a while when I've watched the show I have became more  
>and more interested in the dynamics between Dexter and Astor. Astor has her growing pains and father issues and<br>Dexter is just completely inadequate to handle emotional stuff. So I just took the idea a little further and wondered  
>how it would play out if Astor, as an adult, was still holding a grudge against Dexter for failing to protect her mother.<br>How would two people of the opposite sides of the emotional spectrum clash. How would an emotionally crippled Dexter  
>cope with a young woman full of passion and anger. And naturally, I'm a hopeless shipper! So, it was a slow day and<br>instead of writing one of my gazillion unfinished fics, I decided to write this one. However, I'm leaving this on hiatus  
>since all of my other projects are on my main focus right now. If someone wants to adopt this story, they are free to<br>do so! Just PM me. :)_

* * *

><p>There had always been a thing that just rubbed her in the wrong way about Dexter. There was something artificial<br>about him. Something clinical.

She hadn't seen him in years, but he didn't seem to have changed any since her last visit. His dirty blonde hair was  
>kept neatly short and he had maintained his good physical shape over the years. For whatever reason, Astor didn't<br>know. She remembered from childhood that keeping fit had always been an obsession for Dexter. Long runs on the  
>beach, daily workouts and a healthy diet while most his peers were munching away their health with doughnuts and<br>whatnot. Drinking heavily was also an occupational feature among the people in law reinforcement. But Dexter rarely  
>joined them in this nightly after work ritual. Actually she couldn't recall him ever drinking. Ever loosening up. Ever really<br>living.

Dexter had gotten up from the car and was walking towards her with that phony smile plastered on the well-preserved  
>face of his. He looked well under his actual age. Probably because he never really displayed any facial expressions to<br>get any wrinkles. But, truth to be told, Dexter seemed more authentic whenever he didn't try to feign a smile. When he  
>did, it always seemed to Astor like he was an animal, trying to mimic something unobtainable to him emotionally. He<br>mostly got the mechanics of a smile right, but beneath the surface there was nothing. When he approached her and gave  
>her an awkward hug, she could see his eyes up close. Exactly as they had been in her childhood, void of any emotion.<p>

"So, how was your trip? Here, let me help you with these." Dexter said as he let go of her and lifted up three heavy  
>luggage.<p>

"Fine, thank you." She replied without returning his smile and they both walked back to Dexter's station wagon.

Astor climbed in to the passenger's seat and studied her surroundings. The interior was very orderly, as one could have  
>expected of Dexter. Even though he had a son of ten years, it was not evident inside the car. There were no toys lying<br>around, no juice stains on the sheathings or crumbs of chips between the back rest and the seat that were the typical  
>trademarks of a family car. No, instead everything was carefully vacuumed and washed. The air inside was a mixture of<br>detergent and bleach. It smelled essentially just like Dexter.

There was a muffled bang and the car swayed slightly as Dexter slammed close the trunk. He then entered the car and  
>Astor turned her face away from him.<p>

He sighed and muttered something like "This is going to be one joyride" under his breath and Astor couldn't have agreed  
>more. He put on the radio and they both sat there, silently, listening to an insipid stream of music as they drove to his house.<p>

* * *

><p>"Okay, this is your room. It's next to Harrison's. I hope you like it." Dexter gave her that empty smile and anticipated that<br>she would reply. He was bad with social cues, as always. He dumbly stood there before figuring out that she was not in the  
>mood for conversing. With him, at least.<p>

"So, I'm going to make dinner. Come and eat when you're hungry."

She humph'd and closed the door of her room in front of his face. God, she needed to find a place of her own. Pronto.

Astor threw herself on the guest- well, on her own bed and blankly stared at the pale blue ceiling. The choice of colour was  
>so like him. Nondescript, non-offending and - clinical. All the walls just oozed his essence. His smell. She could hardly muster<br>up an appetite in that room.

She rolled on the bed and reached out to open a window that was next to it. Hot and humid Miami air hit her face and slowly  
>filled the room. It was a nice view across the yard. Lanky palm trees swayed in rhythm with the wind next to the pavements.<br>The sky was clear and the sun shined down on all the idyllic houses that were painted in that same warm earthy red color as  
>Dexter's.<p>

'_Mom would have loved to grow old in here_' she thought. Sudden melancholia hit her. The reason why she disliked visiting Dexter  
>was only partially because she wasn't particularly fond of him, but mostly because it all reminded her of the life that was<br>prematurely taken away from her mother.

She inhaled deeply, trying to fight off the ghosts of all the tears she had wept in the absence of her mother. She got up from  
>the bed.<p>

Where was the bathroom again?

* * *

><p>Astor washed her hands and splashed some cold water on her face. It was hot, alright. She had lived for two decades in Florida<br>and still found it hard to get used to the heat waves. She closed the tap and her eyes were caught by a Batman toothbrush that  
>was placed in a matching mug by the sink. Astor couldn't help but smile at it. The only human sign she had seen in the whole<br>house. Harrison was currently staying at his friend's place. Dexter had told her how Harrison had been excited about sleeping in  
>a tent by the yard of his friend's family. Still most of his trivial prattling had gone by her in their car drive.<p>

Astor turned to leave and unlocked the door. Something rustled behind her and she turned back. The noise was coming from the  
>air vent. A mouse? When she got closer to it, it stopped. She stood there a while and gently tapped on the hatch. The rustling<br>started again and she quietly wedged the hatch open. She peered inside and was expecting to see a colony of mice, but instead  
>she was surprised to see a box, covered with dust.<p>

"What..?"

She picked up the rectangular wooden box. It had a clasp at the end and it was really heavy. She tried to open it, but it needed a  
>key. Just as she was about to put the box back, the biggest cockroach that ever lived jumped at her.<p>

She let out a shrilling shreak and in her moment of panic dropped the mystery box. It fell on the tile floor with a splendorous smash.  
>Astor grabbed whatever randomly was in the reach of her hand and swatted the little vermin with a Spiderman towel.<p>

It took her a couple seconds to even out her breathing and when she had gotten over the initial adrenaline shock, she looked down  
>at the damage at her feet.<p>

The box had cracked in two, but luckily the contects seemed to be intact. The lock was lying all over the floor in little bits and pieces.  
>Splinters of hard wood had scattered everywhere.<p>

Astor carefully kneeled to observe what kind of dark secrets of Dexter had the box contained.

She frowned and picked up a glass slide with a perfectly circular drop of blood caught between the two slides of glass. There were  
>dozens of slides like that and she understood why the box had been so heavy. Why did he keep a collection of blood samples?<br>Was he sick? But most of all, why would he stash blood samples in the bathroom if it was his own blood?

One question merely spawned another and she had no idea what to think of the situation when the bathroom door swung open.

"Astor! I heard a…" Dexter stepped in, but stopped in his tracks.

Astor turned to look at him. It was the first time she saw him exhibit a true, unadulterated and intemperate emotion. It was sheer terror.


	2. Chapter 2

His feral eyes flickered up and down between the shattered remains of the box on the floor and Astor's hands.

"You… Did you touch… anything else?" Dexter demanded and pulled her up, keeping his eyes fixed on her hand  
>which squeezed the slides of glass that entrapped a drop of blood between them.<p>

Astor felt a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach and hasted to exclaim "No! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, but I  
>heard a noise and…"<p>

What was she? Six again?

She halted her explanation and fixed her composure. "What is this _exactly_?" She asked while tearing her hand  
>free from his grip and staring back at him.<p>

Dexter's gaze was wild and terrified. He was like an animal again, but this time, there was none of his usual  
>calculative coolness of an intelligent yet unemotional not-quite-human-being. Now he was full of basic, primitive<br>emotions. They were displayed on his face like a rainbow of feelings. An animal, sure. Backed into a corner,  
>with no way out, horrified.<p>

"You don't need to know."

Dexter pulled out a paper towel from his pocked and laid it out on his palm. His hand quivered.

"Give me the slides."

Astor complied. She dropped them on the paper. But she needed to know.

"Is this… your own blood? Are you sick? Do you have some kind of a blood disease?"

Dexter didn't reply. He simply ignored her existence and kneeled down. He neatly wiped the glass slides clean  
>and placed them back in the box. Careful not to touch anything directly.<p>

'_He's wiping off the fingerprints. Why?_'

Why would he be so cautious if it was his own blood? If someone was to find the box that had Dexter's blood  
>samples in it, wouldn't it only be natural that it had his fingerprints all over it? But then again, why keep his<br>blood samples in such a place? Hidden from who? From Harrison? Or someone else? _If it's not his own blood…_

The man, who grouched over the box, eyed the damage. He was calculating the situation again. Estimating.  
>Making damage control and then he noticeably relaxed. Nothing had been permanently ruined, this situation<br>could still be saved.

"Astor," he turned to look at her, "you will not breathe a word of this to anyone. Understood?"

"Of course, I'm not stupid!" She snapped at him. "If this is something that will get you into trouble, it will get me  
>and Harrison as well. So… I won't. But you have some explaining to do."<p>

Dexter stood up and picked up the box. "I'm not obliged to explain anything to you."

A wave of anger washed over Astor.

"Now, go to your room."

If it was anyone, but Dexter telling her, a 22-year-old woman, to 'go to her room', she would have ridiculed  
>them for such a phrase, but not now. All the fear in Dexter's gaze was gone and his emotions hidden by that<br>dark veil that shielded his eyes. He could look out, but no-one could look in.

She would not get her answers, regardless of yelling at him, threatening him, or pleading with him. She was  
>not up to bar at his game of manipulating people into doing her bidding. Dexter was a master at it. Best way<br>to get her answers was to do as he said. For now.

The cold, predatorial eyes studied her as she left the room. Could she be trusted?

* * *

><p>Astor didn't speak a word to Dexter the entire evening. In fact, didn't even leave her room after the little blood<br>sample episode. And she guessed that it was just how he preferred it.

The next morning she woke up early and went back to the bathroom to wash up. The floor was cleaned, as  
>she had expected. It looked as if nothing had ever gone wrong in the world.<p>

After she had brushed her teeth and washed her face, she peered at the air vent as she dried her face with  
>a pale blue towel. She was so intrigued by the air vent that she didn't even remember to take notice of the<br>tacky flower print on the towel.

She hung back the towel, next to the Spiderman towel, and walked to the air vent. She grabbed the lid by  
>both hands and wedged it open again. This time, it was empty. Dexter had even wiped off the dust. Figures.<p>

Astor sighed and placed the lid back.

* * *

><p>She walked downstairs in search of the food supply unit. Or whatever Dexter called his fridge.<p>

Astor walked into the kitchen, and as suspected, everything was freakishly neat. The man could surely hold his  
>own in the army.<p>

She located the fridge and pursued emptying it. She was famishing and tried to haul as much as food as she  
>could carry. When she slammed the fridge door close, Dexter stood right behind it.<p>

Astor was so startled that she simply froze. After she had stupidly stared at him for a moment, she could feel  
>her heart starting to descend from her throat.<p>

"Wha aww you hoing ugg sho eawwly?" She asked him, mouth full of plums she had looted from a fruit salad.  
>It was 6.00 AM, on a Sunday.<p>

Dexter was wearing a white wife-beater shirt and pale blue boxers. Astor tried to restrain herself from looking  
>overly disgusted. But what fascinated her was his face. It looked like he hadn't slept whole night. His hair was a<br>rare sight of mess.

"When you are middle-aged your bladder isn't what it used to be." He replied. His joke was not warm-hearted.  
>It was more like he was stating a fact, but nonetheless, he didn't seem to be cross with her anymore.<p>

Astor stepped aside to give room for Dexter to look through the fridge. When he opened the door, his right  
>eyebrow slightly raised.<p>

"Ah, I see. You have graciously left me some cabbage and asparagus."

Meanwhile Astor had stuffed her face with a piece of bread she found on the kitchen counter and was embargoed  
>from speaking. She simply handed out an orange for him.<p>

He looked at the orange, then at her. "Why, thank you. I shall feast this morning." His tone was flat.

Astor shrugged. She really didn't care if he'd drop dead from starvation. She turned to leave, but Dexter  
>called out her name. She waited.<p>

"I forgot to tell this yesterday," Well, of course he forgot. With all the secrets of his private blood collection  
>unravelled and all, "but the neighbours are coming for barbecuing later today. Yes, I'm not thrilled about it either."<p>

Astor hadn't even had the chance to protest when he already had made the assumption that she didn't enjoy such  
>gatherings herself. Sometimes Astor just forgot how good he was at studying and analysing people. Not necessarily<br>understanding them, but good at figuring them out. When he didn't try to act like he was a social retard.

"Around mid-day. I suggest dressing into something that breathes. They said it was going to be a hot day."

When was the last time it wasn't hot in Miami? Back in 1475?

She nodded and returned to her room. Well, the neighbours were sure to be a drag, but she was actually  
>intrigued of seeing the make-believe normal neighbor circus of Dexter. Act 1.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN**: This is a some kind of record for me. I actually wrote this in two hours. So, it's fresh out of the oven!_  
><em>Yaa, yaa, I know. I wasn't supposed to continue, but my whimsical muse decided otherwise.<em>  
><em>I apologize for any spelling mistakes and misused words. I usually spend half of my time writing the stories<em>  
><em>and the other half googling various English proverbs and words since I don't want to use them incorrectly.<em>  
><em>(If anyone knows the character Domyoji Tsukasa from Hana Yori Dango, I'm the same in English as he is<em>  
><em>in Japanese. :)<em>)


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe it was something work-related? Maybe the blood slides were part of a classified work assignment  
>and he wasn't permitted to talk about it? Well, he <em>was<em> a blood analyst, after all. And it would make sense.  
>Some kind of sense. And actually it was the only viable theory she had. All her other assumptions involved<br>either the Soviet Union or aliens.

"More lemonade, my dear?"

Mrs. Saari was a nice, cup-cake smelling widow in her early 70's. She was holding a can of home-made  
>cloudberry lemonade in her wrinkly old lady hands. It tasted hideous.<p>

"Thank you, Mrs. Saari!" Astor smiled and held out her glass for a refill.

The neighbours had gathered for the nice and normal BBQ party of Dexter's. The weather was nice,  
>albeit expectedly very hot.<p>

Over across the yard, Dexter looked at Astor. She could swear she saw a flash of gloat in his eyes.  
>But it was gone so soon, she doubted that it was just her imagination. But when she looked at him, she in<br>turn couldn't help but to feel vaguely amused.

Dexter was dressed in a cheesy hill-billy style apron that said "Baby, I'm on fire!" and it had a cartoon picture  
>of a grinning stake in flames. His ludicrous get-up was perfected by his high, pristine white, chef hat.<p>

'_We are stuck playing our parts in this charade for bystanders._'

Dexter was brilliant at his role as the host in the BBQ gathering. He had honed his skills for all his life. To most  
>people he passed as sincere with his well-practised smiles and accurately timed jokes. To her, it all felt mechanical,<br>without heart or true enjoyment. He was a lonely observer and seldomly initiated any conversations. Unless he  
>had something to gain from conversing. A fact that no-one seemed to take any note of. Being a father had changed<br>his demeanour very little.

After a while, Astor got bored of observing Dexter. She was bored of all the people there and especially bored by  
>the vile tang of the cloudberries. She discreetly spilled her drink on the ground and excused herself.<p>

The young woman found her way back to the kitchen and she opened the refrigerator. Not searching anything in  
>particular, but just basking in the cool glow. The languid breaths of air clang on the pearls of sweat that glistened<br>on her skin. What a girl wouldn't give for a week's trip to Alaska.

"While you are refrigerating yourself, could you pass the grill sauce? It's on the door."

A breath hitched in Astor's throat. Goddamn that man puts ninjas to shame!

Not bothering to look at the man standing behind the refrigerator door, Astor's eyes quickly scanned trough a row  
>of various bottles until she spotted a reddish orange one. She snatched the bottle and tossed it on the kitchen<br>table behind her. She closed her eyes and faced the chilling pits of the fridge, not wanting to be disturbed more.

A pestering feel of his presence wouldn't leave her alone.

"Was there anything else? Mayonnaise perhaps?" She asked dryly.

The fridge door was swung close and Astor hesitantly took a step back.

"I would greatly appreciate if you just played along. These people have been waiting to meet you." Dexter moved  
>to stand before the fridge. Astor was caught between Dexter and the kitchen table.<p>

"One of our neighbours is Detective Miller. As you recall me introducing you to him half an hour ago." He paused to  
>contemplate his next words carefully. "He is very important guest to us, a friend of mine," Dexter leaned in, "one to<br>make a good impression on, you understand?"

Astor felt his breath on her face and neck. It was hot and humid like the Miami air but instead it made her chill.  
>He was trying to put her in her place.<p>

But the young woman didn't feel like being pushed. Not when she had one leg-up over him.

"I see... The good Detective probably doesn't know about your little collection of... _samples_." The last word rolled  
>languidly off her tongue. Dexter's eyes widened.<p>

"Don't fret, I get it. Mr. Detective needs to be entertained." Her fingers drew circles on the surface of the kitchen  
>table she was leaning against.<p>

"As the keepers of the law, I think there might be _couple_ topics of joint interest between us."

Her last words were like a malicious promise and she brushed her shoulder against Dexter's as she tried to make  
>her leave. Dexter grabbed her shoulder and pushed her against the fridge, nimbly swapping their positions.<br>Stripped of all the fake smiles and pleasantness', his face was cold and barren. "Astor!" His harsh tone scolded her.

He held her in place by both hands. He was so close now that Astor could taste his eau de toilette in her mouth.

The woman pushed her hands hard against his chest, trying to escape his firm grip. "Don't treat me like a child,  
>you fucking freak!" She breathed heavily through her teeth making the words sound like a hiss.<p>

The space between them felt electrified by a sinister tension. The little hair on Astor's body stood out. She still had  
>her palms resting on his pecs. A rush of adrenaline made her heart beat faster, her pupils grow wider and her breath<br>come out as a laborious quiver. She only hoped that Dexter wouldn't notice that there were goose bumps on her arms.  
>She didn't want him to know that he had any effect on her. What Astor didn't notice was that Dexter's eyes had<br>turner darker, too.

"I don't like you and I know that you're not fond of me either. Just stop with all this fake crap." She sharply said.

Dexter didn't reply. He did not enjoy his current position. At all. Astor was attempting to play with something well beyond  
>her understanding. Her fickle temper didn't suite his plans and he knew that this woman child would snap him if he didn't<br>handle the situation now. He could not afford loose ends regarding his secrets.

He grabbed a hold of her wrist. It was tiny, Dexter couldn't help noticing.

"If you won't comply with my rules, you are free to leave this house."

He squeezed her wrist harder. He wanted her to be uncomfortable, feel a little pain. Just a little. It had been a long  
>time since his last slide.<p>

"Umm, excuse me? The stakes are starting to look pretty well done on the grill." A voice interrupted their battle of wills.  
>A man in his late 30's had appeared in the kitchen doorway.<p>

Dexter immediately released Astor's wrist. He put that stupid smile on his face with a reflex and was about to reply to  
>the man at the door when he heard Astor whisper in his ear.<p>

"I'll play."

Astor pushed Dexter aside and walked up to the kitchen counter. She casually grabbed a bowl of salad that sat there  
>so that it'd look like she had meant to do so all along. The woman looked at the intruder and gave him a brilliant fake<br>smile of her own.

"Where are my manners, I'm afraid I distracted our host for too long." She cutely pursed her lips, "Do forgive me,  
>Detective Miller"<p>

"Please, just call me Dave." He kindly returned her smile.

Astor grabbed his arm and began leading him out the kitchen.

"Dave. May I ask how you enjoy your stakes? I bet you're a _bloody_ kind a guy." At that particular word she glanced  
>over her shoulder at Dexter who was forced to stand behind with a smile on that shallow mask of his.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN**: I'm such a deuche, I know! All my stories are on hiatus and I haven't replied to any of my wonderful reviews!  
>I'm sorry, I don't deserve you guys! :' But I promise that once I get my graduation papers in my hands this spring,<br>the updates will skyrocket in numbers!_

_About couple things in this chapter. I couldn't help but to throw in some of my Finnish roots. I've never done that  
>before with any of my other fics. Saari is a typical Finnish surname and it means "Island". Cloudberry is a popular<br>Finnish berry and it tastes hideous! It's really, really sour. They, as well as cranberries, are common in Lapland and  
>in the northern areas in general - no so much down here where I live. But here in the south raspberries, blueberries<br>and wild strawberries grow on everyone's backyards._

_And about your questions. Yeeees, this is intended to be a dark romance. I just don't want to rush into things.  
>First Astor and Dexter should learn to see themselves as something other than a child and an adult. Astor should<br>learn that Dexter is more than just emotionally crippled freak and Dexter needs to really start trusting her and see  
>that she's a woman. They both have pretty high walls of defence that need to come down in order for them to<br>discover each other._

_But as always, my offer stands. Whoever wants to adopt this story, please PM me and it shall be yours!_


	4. Chapter 4

Astor had spent the last hour chatting with Detective Miller. The two had secluded themselves to a table that was on the edge of Dexter's yard. Shy from rest of the guests.

"So, what made you choose the law, if I may ask?" Detective Miller, or Dave, asked and downed the rest of his drink.

Astor casually twirled the glass of vodka in her hands.

"You may." She paused to give him a teasing smile. "I guess you could say that I believe in good and bad. And I always wanted to be one of the good guys. Fight the evil. Make a difference. You know."

Dave nodded his head and rummaged his pockets for a pack of cigarettes. When he finally located the cardboard box he pulled it out and tilted the pack towards Astor. Astor didn't smoke but naively she wanted to impress the older man and pulled out one minty cigarette. She shielded the cigarette with her hand as Dave offered light. It made her want to cough but she fought back the burning sensation down her throat. Not wanting to seem like a greenhorn.

"Quid pro quo. How do you know Dexter?" Astor asked and puffed out a cloud of gray.

Dave chuckled and leaned back on his fold chair.

"Aww, Dex is a great guy. Since I moved to the neighborhood, about five years ago, we've worked in the same precinct. He's saved my butt a couple of times on some cases we've worked together."

"I see. Do you guys socialize much outside of work?"

Dave shrugged.

"Occasionally. As you probably know, he's not much of a drinker. I've invited him to join me, but he mostly spends his free time with Harrison. He's a great dad. I don't have any children of my own, so that's something that we really can't relate to one another."

Astor gave a polite smile and took a sip of her glass. The outdoor air was standing still so Dave took the opportunity to impress Astor with some smoke rings tricks. He used his tongue to push out the smoke from his mouth so that hoop after hoop appeared and disappeared into the air.

Dave was a handsome man, Astor assessted. His auburn eyes twinkled with mischief. He was fit, tall and had a boyish energy to him that appealed to most women. Astor wasn't quite sure she was one of them, but Dave served his purpose, regardless if Astor felt attracted to him or not.

"Fuck me sideways."

A strange exclamation interrupted Astor's and Dave's quiet moment. Astor knew without turning that her favourite aunt was coming over their table. She put out her cigarette and rose from her seat.

"Deb!" She squealed and opened her arms for a bear hug. Debra Morgan took her in for an embrace and with ease lifted Astor's feet off the ground.

"Is that really you, squirt!" Deb laughed warmly and let go of Astor.

"But seriously? Fuck man, last time I saw you, you were this big," Dep illustrated by holding her thumb and index finger two inches apart "and now you're almost as tall as me!"

The younger woman shook her head with a sigh. "Ha ha. We last saw like six months ago. But that joke. Never gets old, auntie. Unlike you."

"Fuck you, kiddo. At least I'm old enough to wipe my own ass while you... Oh, have you even started potty training yet?"

Dave had also stood up from his seat and watched the banter between the two women. Astor quickly composed herself and tried to remember her manners.

"Deb, you probably know detective Miller with whom I just had the pleasure to get acquainted."

Deb offered her hand out and friskly shook Dave's. "Yeah, sure I know Dave. 'Sup?"

Dave offered a nervous smile and coughed his reply. "Fine, thank you, Captain Morgan."

"At ease, soldier," Deb demanded "today I'm just Deb."

Deb patted Dave's shoulders and cockily grinned at her adoptive niece.

"I didn't interrupt anything, now did I?"

"We hadn't gotten that far." Astor replied rolling her eyes.

"Good, let's keep it that way." The older woman winked at Dave and gave him a good hard slap on the back. Gentle enough not to hurt but just hard enough to leave a small reminding tingle. She was very protective of her niece, and even though Deb knew perfectly well that Astor's cherry was long popped, she still wanted Astor to practice caution with men. Especially with older men.

"Okay, should you need me, I'll be near the liquor." Deb looked Astor into eyes and gently brushed her hand before striding off.

"Your aunt, huh, quite the handful." Dave dared to comment once he was sure that Captain Morgan was out of earshot.

"You have _no_ idea." Astor said and they both laughed somewhat reservedly.

* * *

><p>Afternoon was slowly giving way to evening and some of the first guests were taking their leave. Astor was still cornered with Dave in the same small table. The young woman was about to take a refreshing guzzle from her glass, but to her dismay the glass was empty – save for the thimbleful of melted ice at the bottom.<p>

"Oh, time for a refull. Can I get you something?" She asked, trying not to slur. She should probably lower the booze:bland ratio in her next one.

"Don't... bother y-yourself. I can... get 'em." Her date tried to offer, but Astor estimated that it would take immense effort from him just to stand up without falling on his face. Less vodka for him, too.

"Naw, I have to go powder my nose anyway. No bother."

"Okay." Dave replied and stared blankly somewhere. The light on his cigarette had also died.

Astor collected their empty glasses and headed back towards the house.

She walked to the garden bar table but noticed that most of the serviceable liquor had already vanished. Gladly she knew where Dexter kept his good stuff. She headed inside.

After a quick trip to the loo, she sneaked to the living room cupboard. Dexter had left it unlocked and Astor quietly pried the dark oak door open. She turned the bottles around. Not being a particular expert on booze, she simply chose a bottle that had a low percentage of alcohol and looked pretty. She began unscrewing the cap when her eyes caught a picture in the glass cabinet above the liquor cabinet. There was a row of framed photos. All of them of Dexter's family and friends. Mostly Harrison. There was also a picture of Dexter, Cody, Astor, Harrison and Rita. The last one where her mother had ever smiled.

Astor's hands began to quiver.

She hadn't always hated Dexter. Not even after what had happened to her mother. After the initial rage and pain of her loss, she had grown to trust Dexter even more. Especially after he had protected her friend from an abusive jerk and kept it a secret from their relatives that she had gotten wasted while underage. She trusted and somewhat even admired him. It took one trivial thing to change all that.

When she was about 15, visiting Dexter for her summer vacation, she had went to pick up the mail one morning. She had got up early while Cody and Dexter were still sleeping. There had been a pale yellow letter in the mail box. She still remembered the pale black ink on the paper which was a shade of vanilla. Had Astor not opened that letter, her whole relationship with Dexter may have turned out quite different.

She had read the letter enough many times to still, seven years later, remember some passages.

* * *

><p>"<em>Dexter, I hope this letter finds you in good health.<em>

_…._

_I know that I shouldn't write you like this._

_But I often find myself thinking of you._

_…_

_I spent long convincing myself that what we shared was less than what it truthfully was._

_..._

_We were both in a bad position._

_..._

_I should feel at peace but do not. Not a day passes when I don't look back. Regret leaving._

_..._

_Please, write me back._

_..._

_Still yours, Lumen_"

* * *

><p>Astor had earlier confronted Dexter about the relationship between him and Lumen. Dexter had denied that there was anything going on back then. She had believed him. But after that letter... Astor was completely convinced that Dexter had had an affair behind her mother's back. And it only ended because <em>she<em> left. And after seducing and dumping a married man, that trollop had the nerve to try and slither her way back to him.

Astor had read the letter like her life depended on it. Interpreting every word, engraving them into her memory. Then she burned the letter. Not letting Dexter know that that weasel had ever attempted to write him. It was her way getting back at that other woman. But her revenge on Dexter was even more harsh. She had began to despise him. To this day.

One thing she excluded from her revenge towards Dexter was that she never told Cody about the letter.

Cody thought of Dexter as a role-model, a hero... A father. Something Astor couldn't even in her greatest rage try to take away from her innocent little brother.

No, her hatred was her own burden.

Astor's hands steadied.

A polite cough roused her from reminiscing.

"Kiddo, I think that your date just passed out on the lawn."

Astor stared at her amused aunt and sighed. That wouldn't do. She put the unopened bottle back in the cabinet and closed the door.

* * *

><p>Astor heaved the half unconscious detective off the ground and draped his hand over her shoulder. After rejecting help from Dexter and Deb, Astor continued to walk slash drag the much larger man inside the house. She poised him against the kitchen table and offered him a pint of water.<p>

After downing most of the offered refreshment, Dave groaned and held his head in anguish.

"I think I got a little carried away there."

Astor chuckled. "It happens."

She carefully took the glass from him and placed it by the sink. They both stood in silence, listening to the muffled sounds coming from outside. Car engines murmured on the driveway as the rest of the guests were departing. Dave sighed and shook his head.

"Sorry for bothering you. I think this is my cue to leave." Dave pushed himself against the table and tried to take a wobbly step forward. Astor softly pressed her palm against his chest to stop him.

"No bother, detective."

Astor batted her eyelashes and and cocked her head, tilting her face upwards. Dave slowly blinked his eyes and looked at the pink coyly parted lips hovering near his throat.

"I, uhh.." He wasn't even positively sure what he wanted to say.

Astor knew that he was too drunk to know better. Whilst she was sober enough to know better.

"Come." She breathed and took a hold of his unresisting hand.

* * *

><p>Astor led Dave to her bedroom. Neither spoke a word. She closed the door behind them and turned to look at Dave. His eyes were muddled but gained some sharpness when Astor threw her shirt off. His tongue instinctively moistened his lips.<p>

The young woman swayed closer to him. She nibbled at his earlobe and pushed him down on her bed.

Dave didn't resist and fell willingly. Astor climbed on him.

* * *

><p>Astor kept her eyes closed. Only things she sensed were the heavy breaths against her ear and the heat on her skin. Her whole body jounced to a fast rythm that connected her to detective Miller. Dave pumped his hips like they were a piston engine. He kept his other hand placed on her hips while the other had latched itself in her hair. It was unfortunate that he was so drunk. The whole thing would have been over much sooner had alcohol not hindered his sensitivity.<p>

Astor grunted which Dave interpreted as a sign of contentment. If possible, he began quickening his unwearying pace. Astor gritted her teeth and sought comfort from the fact that he would be hopefully done soon. She was starting to get dry and the high paced friction did nothing to help her discomfort.

When Dave tried to kiss her, she discreetly turned her head away. He placed his sloppy kisses on her neck instead.

Astor screwed her eyes closed even more tightly. It wasn't that she hated sex, it just... hadn't particularly ever done anything for her. Sometimes it felt better than other times. Depending on her mood and the guy. Now she definitely wasn't in the mood and not really that into her partner either. The only thing keeping her vaguely willing to this situation was the satisfaction she knew she would get in the following morning. Dexter would obviously notice that Dave's car was still in his driveway. And Astor didn't exactly try to hush Dave. Every now and then even she let out a load moan, even though it had nothing to do with Dave's skills as a lover.

With that though Astor allowed herself to cry out when Dave slammed his hips into hers with little more force than necessary. Her reaction, once again, was taken in as a compliment by her drunken paramour. Dave grinned and sucked forcefully on the skin of her shoulder.

The bruises and the humiliation were well worth it, Astor assured herself. Just to see the look on his face. What Astor had gathered during her evening with Dave, was that Dave was pretty much the best friend Dexter had at the moment. Closest person he had. If that emotionless half-human was even capable of such.

Astor already saw his expression. Angry. Contorted. Hot and passionate. Astor gripped her hands tightly around Dave. Dexter would be so mad. Like he had been when he pushed her against the fridge. His strong fingers digging themselves to her soft flesh. Astor bit her bottom lip and grabbed Dave by the hair on the back of his head. She hissed when Dave gave a firm slap to her hip.

Yeah, mad. Sizzling.

Astor opened her eyes and instead of gazing into auburn she was looking into pools of deep emerald. But those emerald eyes weren't cool as they usually were, now they were aflame. Burning to touch her even deeper. She arched her back and those firm hands nimbly sought their way to the small of her back. To pull her in closer. Not letting her escape. Her breath hitched in her throat. She tried to turn her head away, but his lean fingers took a hold of her jaw.

"Don't look away from me." His dark voice commanded.

She complied and kept her eyes locked in his until her core shook. She cried out from the heavens and collapsed.

* * *

><p>In the first pale hours of the morning, Astor carefully cracked her eyelids open. She felt a warm body clinging to her own and her whole room reeked of sweat and sex. She laid still staring into nothingness as the seconds slipped by, admitting the unavoidable truth.<p>

Yup, she was fucked in the head.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Uh oh...Well, yeah._

_Those of you wondering where this story fits canon-wise, it's just after season 5. So, I'm going to pretend that the latter part of season 6 and the whole of season 7 never happened in my Dexter universe. Because the world would be a happier place for it. Yay for Deb! I'm sooooo looking forward to writing her dialogue!_

_Upcoming!_

"Yeah, I found them ages ago. Sometimes dad is out all night and a new slide appears. Couple times I've heard that people have gone missing the same night dad was out somewhere. So, piece it together."

_Happy times in the Morgan family!_


End file.
